All Chapters of Transmigration Into A World With Manna: Chapter 371
- Chapter 380
480 chapters
Chapter 371
Night had already swallowed Glassview when Sikoa stepped onto the first ridge of the city’s fractured rooftops. Her cloak, black as the void between stars, fluttered briefly in the wind, catching just enough moonlight to reveal the faint silver embroidery, a sigil she had traced herself, one of concealment and passage.The air carried the tang of smoke and ozone from the necrotic storms that had raged only days before. The city was still scarred, buildings leaning like broken teeth, mana wells flickering with residual corruption.She paused at a vantage point above what remained of the Lower Lime Quarter, surveying the streets below. The quiet was deceptive. Shadows moved in the alleys, some natural, some artificial, shaped by lingering Twin Moons wards that had survived the purge. Sikoa adjusted her gauntlet, fingertips brushing the engraved runes that hummed softly with protective magic. Every step tonight was deliberate, measured, calculated. No orphan, no hidden agent, no lin
Chapter 372
The streets of Glassview pulsed with light, laughter, and the clatter of celebration. Stalls were draped in banners of azure and silver, crowds pressing shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with roasted meats, sweet incense, and the acrid tang of fireworks sparks. Lanterns bobbed above the thoroughfares like floating stars, casting shifting glows across cobblestones scarred from months of reconstruction.Caster Spellbound moved through it all almost invisibly, a shadow among the living. He walked with the grace of a man used to command, though his eyes constantly flicked upward, scanning, measuring, reading the currents of mana that hummed invisibly above the city. The festival was meant to honor heroes, him, Sikoa, Solon, the brave few who had risked everything, but in the back of his mind, a dozen other faces haunted him. The students, archivists, and low-tier assistants who had perished in the inferno of the burning library. The necrotic storms. The invisible toll exacted by th
Chapter 373
The first sign is silence. Not the quiet of night, but the kind that presses against the ears. The festival below Glassview has ended. Lanterns dim along the streets. Smoke from fireworks drifts and thins. Towers settle back into their slow hover cycles.Caster stands alone on the upper observatory of Spectral Lime. The stone beneath his boots is cracked from earlier damage. Chalk marks still stain the floor where emergency sigils were drawn days ago. Wind moves through the open arches, cold and steady.He tilts his head upward. Above the clouds, something pulls. He does not close his eyes at first. He raises one hand and traces a thin line of mana in the air. The line bends. It does not drift with the wind. It leans upward, like a compass needle.Sikoa stands near the stairwell, arms crossed, watching him. “You feel it too,” she says.Caster nods once. He steps to the center of the observatory. The floor circle there is old, pre-Consortium. Lime sigils ring it, cracked but intact
Chapter 374
The archive doors seal behind him with a muted thud. Caster does not turn.The sound tells him enough. The locking sigils are old. Spectral Lime originals. No Consortium overrides. No silent alarms. Just layered wards and heavy stone.The lamps inside the restricted wing burn low. Their light is pale and uneven, trapped inside glass cylinders etched with age-worn runes. Shadows stretch across shelves that rise to the ceiling, packed tight with sealed volumes, crystal slates, and memory coils. Dust hangs in the air. Caster steps forward. Each footfall echoes once, then dies. The floor is slate, cracked in places, repaired in others. Old chalk lines still cling to the seams, half scrubbed, half forgotten.He lifts a hand. Mana flows out in thin filaments, brushing the air, tasting it. The wards recognize him. Not his face. Not his name. His pattern.The shelves nearest him hum softly, then fall silent again. He moves deeper.This wing predates Glassview’s expansion. Before Twin Moons.
Chapter 375
The warning bells did not ring. That alone told Caster this was not a raid. Morning mist clung to the outer platforms of Glassview as three figures crossed the bridge from open air. Their boots struck stone in clean, even steps. No haste. No hesitation. Cloud Tower envoys always walked like they owned the ground beneath them, even when they did not.Caster stood at the edge of the upper concourse, hands at his sides, coat unfastened. Two Wardens flanked him, silent, eyes tracking every movement. Mana wards shimmered faintly under the stone, tuned tight but dormant.The lead envoy stopped ten paces away. Ardis Valen looked thinner than before. Not weaker. Sharper. His gray cloak bore the sigil of Cloud Tower stitched in subdued thread, the kind meant to catch light only at certain angles. His right hand rested near his belt, close to a sealed focus rod. His left sleeve hung longer than fashion required.Caster did not step forward. Ardis inclined his head once. Not a bow. Not quite
Chapter 376
The courier arrived without bells or escort. He stepped through the western gate of Spectral Lime just before dawn, boots leaving wet prints on the stone. Fog still clung to the lower towers. The wards did not flare. The sentries did not stop him. He walked as if he already belonged there.Caster stood on the balcony above the courtyard when the man looked up.Their eyes met for a brief second.The courier raised one hand, slow, open. In his other hand was a narrow scroll tube made of dull silver. No crest. No color. No signature.Caster lifted two fingers.The courtyard guards stiffened but did not move. The courier crossed the space alone. His pace never changed. He stopped exactly beneath the balcony and knelt once, placing the tube on the stone with both hands.“For Spellbound,” the courier said. His voice was flat. “No return address.”Caster descended the stairs without hurry. Each step echoed. Sikoa appeared at the far archway, already armed. Ardis Valen stood near the pillars
Chapter 378
Dawn reached Glassview before the bells did. Light slid across broken roofs and rebuilt bridges. It caught on scaffold metal and new stone, turning the city pale gold. Steam rose from mana vents along the avenues, thin and steady, not yet unstable. The city breathed in slow, careful rhythms.Caster stood at the edge of the rebuilt tower and watched the light move. The tower had been Spectral Lime’s highest platform before the burning. Now it was shorter, reinforced with layered sigils and raw stone. The railing was new. The floor still smelled of cut granite and binding resin. Below, the city stretched outward in uneven rings, some old, some freshly scarred, some clean and rebuilt too quickly.Workers moved along the streets even at this hour. Cloaks, carts, lifted stones. A mana crane hummed once, then went quiet. No one spoke loudly. Glassview had learned restraint.Caster rested his hands on the rail. His coat shifted in the wind. The fabric no longer needed enchantment to keep
Chapter 379
The gate sealed behind him without sound. No wind followed. No echo lingered. One moment, there was an opening in the air, a thin vertical seam of gold-blue light, and the next there was only stone.Caster did not turn around. The Sage Tower rose ahead of him, tall and narrow, its surface carved from pale gray stone veined with old mana channels. The structure did not reach for the sky like Glassview’s spires. It pressed inward instead, compact and controlled, as if the building itself rejected excess. The air felt dry. Every breath carried dust, ink, and the faint metallic tang of dormant wards.Caster adjusted the clasp of his cloak and stepped forward. The cloak was plain. No sigils. No identifying thread. The illusion was not woven into the cloth. It sat deeper, anchored beneath the skin. His face looked older now. Lines cut deeper around his eyes. His hair was shorter, darker at the roots, streaked faintly with gray near the temples. His shoulders were broader. His movements
Chapter 380
The escort did not speak. Six wardens walked ahead of him. Two followed. Their boots never touched the marble floor at the same time. Caster noticed that first. Perfect spacing. Perfect silence. The Tower had trained them well.The doors to the Upper Conclave waited at the end of the corridor. They were taller than the archways below, carved from layered stone that bent light instead of reflecting it. Old sigils had been stripped away and replaced with new ones, etched shallow, almost shy, as if the Tower no longer wanted its power to be seen too clearly.One warden raised a hand. The doors parted without sound. Heat washed out first. Then pressure. Then the sense of being counted.Caster stepped through. The Upper Conclave no longer had walls. It was a vast open void contained by invisible force, the sky of the Tower exposed above, clouds sliding past like slow witnesses. Seven platforms floated within the space, each a perfect ring of stone, each rotating at a different speed and
Chapter 381
The bell did not ring. The sound simply stopped. Caster felt it before anyone else noticed. A low hum that had filled the Sixth Ring corridor cut off mid-beat, like breath held too long. The lamps along the wall dimmed a fraction. Not enough to alarm. Enough to be deliberate. He slowed his steps.Two attendants walked ahead of him, gray-robed, silent. Their boots struck the glass-stone floor in careful rhythm. They did not turn.Caster adjusted his gloves. Leather over sigil-thread. He had learned to keep his hands busy. It kept others from watching them too closely.They reached a narrow archway. Clear crystal formed the door. Runes drifted across it like frost patterns.One attendant pressed a palm to the frame. The crystal slid apart without a sound. Inside waited a circular room made entirely of transparent layers. Floor, walls, ceiling, glass reinforced with wards. Lines of runes hovered at fixed distances, forming invisible boundaries.At the center stood a single table. No cha